


Secure

by hanktalkin



Series: The Safest Place [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Boundaries, First Orgasm, M/M, Non-Traditional Relationships, Personal Growth, Porn with Feelings, Pre WAR!, Trust, What's A Handjob Between Bros?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: “Never?”Soldier shook his head.“Not even on your own?”Soldier’s embarrassment rose, warming the back of his neck, but he nodded again.





	Secure

**Author's Note:**

> Completely self indulgent p0rn0

“Never?”

Soldier shook his head.

“Not even on your own?”

Soldier’s embarrassment rose, warming the back of his neck, but he nodded again.

“Jesus Christ,” Demo said, more in disbelief than anything. “I mean…I was only a wee lad when I had my first wank. I thought that at a certain age every young man has-”

“Well I didn’t,” Soldier said gruffly, cutting the conversation short.

Demo’s eye softened. “I…I’m sorry lad. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just…hard for me to believe, you know? I can understand if you’d never been with another person before but-” This time, Demo cut himself off. “Ach, I’m sorry. I’m being judgmental again. I promised I wouldn’t and I’ll just shut my mouth now.”

Soldier’s shoulders sagged against the drywall, the only perceptible indication of how much of a relief Demo’s apology was. The two were in his bedroom, a dozen empty bottles between them, and more in the kitchen if they so chose. It was the most comfortable place in the apartment, what with no couch that a pair of men could tilt back a couple of beers on. That suited them fine. The lowness of the mattress fit their casual sessions more than any other attempt at furniture.

“Thank you,” Soldier said eventually. “For listening.” Because that seemed like the thing to say.

“Eh. No trouble,” Demo replied. He sipped his beer in the way people do when they don’t want to look at you, but also don’t want to be obvious about it.

Honestly, Soldier was happy enough with that. It’d been so exhausting, and in fact utterly terrifying, working up to this moment. He’d wetted himself on beer, his fears becoming loose and slippery under the influence of alcohol. The plan was to unstuck himself from them long enough to broach the subject and…let things fall from there. The fact that Demo was trying to be polite to him was in and of itself a comfort.

“Do you…” Demo asked cautiously, “…mind if I ask you a question?”

Soldier tilted back the remains of his bottle and tossed the empty in the pile. “Shoot.”

“…Why?”

Soldier closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and willing himself the courage to answer.

“I was afraid.”

The shock on Demo’s face was somehow more stark than even the first confession. Soldier didn’t blame him. After all, the fearsome Jane Doe? Admitting weakness? They might as well have been floating on cotton candy clouds while Mayor Baloonicorn handed them a Nobel Peace Prize.

But as strange as it was, it made sense to Soldier. He’d already took the first step, admitting how he’d failed at something that everyone besides him considered to be normal. He’d never cared about “normal” but this…this was something that was impossible to say he hadn’t wondered himself. There was no one he could hope to understand him. No one except Demo, who’d already proven himself a friend with Soldier’s other important secrets. He trusted Demo, even with this.

“When you’re in that state, you’re vulnerable,” he explained. “Even on your own.”

“As in…someone could kick the door in while you’re having it out?” Demo blinked.

“More…metaphorical than that.” Soldier sighed. “It’s…mental. When you’re out like that, you don’t have anything in your head. No strategy, no plan. You’re at the mercy of whatever comes into your head at the time. And when it actually happens…” His lungs rushed out air. “There’s a reason the church doesn’t like people fucking. Because when that climax happens, there’s no room in your head for God.”

Demo looked on at him, aghast in his own breath. His beer was forgotten, hanging vainly in his left hand. “Damn Jane,” he said. “That’s…the most philosophical thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Soldier shrugged. It was something he’d figured out long ago, a truth that didn’t seem so poignant now.

“So,” Demo began, trying to reconcile the image of the Soldier in his head and the man before him, “you’re afraid to let go?”

“If you want to be fucking Emily Dickinson about it, then yeah.”

The statement caught Demo off guard, and he let lose with a sudden laugh. The tension in the room seemed to swirl, not leaving per say, but becoming intimate rather than frightening. There’s a fine line between importance and anxiety, and Demo always seemed to find a way to lead him back across it.

“Thanks,” Demo said eventually. “For feeling you could tell me.”

Soldier tilted his head back, feeling every bump in the cool drywall. He hesitated, but the liquid courage burned in his stomach and he said, “waxing philosophical wasn’t the only reason I wanted to tell you that.”

He can hear Demo pause waiting for him to continue. The easy part is over. What comes next is…if Demo doesn’t understand. But he will. He’d accepted everything Soldier had ever thrown at him. Including, sometimes literally, large plastic flamingos that they’d stolen from Soldier’s evil barber.

“I…want…your help.” The words are hard to squeeze out, even as pliant as they are under the faint fog of intoxication. Demo waited. Soldier pushed on. “I want…to feel it.”

“You want me to find you someone?” Demo asked, and damn Soldier wished he wouldn’t guess when Soldier’s trying to speak.

“No.” He shook his head, an unnecessary emphasis. “I want…I can’t do it myself. It has to be someone else.” That didn’t necessarily counter Demo’s point though, and he’d have to clarify. “Would you…do it for me?”

The words were impossible. Beyond mortification compressed into an audible format. But they were out, and by the widening of Demo’s eye, they were just as weird as Soldier thought they were.

“I know h-how that sounds,” he stammered, the bravery he had managed to scoop up before failing him. “But I j-just…I’ve never met anyone who I thought could help me.” The desperate feeling of regret was yawning before him. He couldn’t help the desperation in his voice when he said, “please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Demo stuttered to a stop. He sighed, both hands coming up to rub his face. He dropped them again, giving Soldier once of the most hollow and confused looks imaginable. “But you have to give some credit here this isn’t…I’ve never…It’s not like this is just asking me to help move your couch.”

“I don’t have a couch,” Soldier said because it was the truth and also the beer made it hard for him to keep his mouth shut.

Demo raised his eyebrow. Soldier felt stupid. It wasn’t something Demo made him feel often, and that was the whole reason this idea had popped into his head in the first place.

But instead of getting impatient, Demo asked another question. “And you can’t do it yourself? Even if I was here…” He made a vague motion to the bedroom, thick with the scent of flytape hanging from the bare bulb. “Keeping watch for you?”

Soldier shook his head. “No. Something’s here.” He tapped his helmetless head. “Up here. Blocking it.”

Demo nodded like it made the most sense in the world, even though Soldier knew it didn’t. Even for just a small thing like that, he was grateful for Demo.

And then Demo squared his shoulders. He took a breath, one of courage, something Soldier could recognize now like the back of his own hand. “I want to ask one more question.”

“That’s fair.”

“Why me?”

That at least had an easy answer. Maybe it wasn’t the right one, but Soldier said it anyway. “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever trusted.”

There was that hint of understanding in Demo’s eye now, the one Soldier had dared let himself hope for.

“Okay.” Demo drunkenly pushed himself to his knees, landing on the wood of the apartment floor. “Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll do it. You just want me to…to get you off right?”

“Affirmative,” Soldier nodded with more air than sound. Something coiled in his stomach. Relief, so much relief, and also vindication. He had believed Demo would do this for him and his friend had come through.

Demo cautiously approached the edge of the mattress. It took up a good sixty percent of the room, yet still managed to be an unforeseen threshold in Demo’s journey to Soldier. He paused, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Soldier didn’t make a move. There was no pressure, no time limit—just an open invitation, patiently waiting.

Demo slid across on his hands and knees, pausing again in front of Soldier. His best friend. The one who sat yielding to him with eyes dry from lack of blinking. “How should I…position myself?”

Soldier shrugged. “It’s all up to you.” He knew what this was now. It was Surrender. He’d bared his throat like a wolf to his mate and trusted that the other wouldn’t rip it out.

And maybe, just maybe, it was good to let go.

The outline of Demoman inspired something in Soldier’s stomach. He blotted out the white of the bulb a bit, becoming a silhouette with just the faint memory of features within. It was almost comforting, like he was a centurion of protection, but still himself under all that armor.

Demo eased down, supporting himself with one arm against the wall. Soldier shifted accordingly, sliding his legs so Demo could fit between them. When Soldier had pictured how things could go, he hadn’t imagined their positions would be more like a game of backyard pattycake than sex. But, to be fair, he hadn’t pictured much really. Just hoped that at some point, Demo would know what to do.

As though already inside his mind, Demo began slide his free hand to Soldier’s pants. It rested there, idly tracing a pattern as the air caught in Demo’s throat. Soldier heard it, that miniscule gasp, and brushed his forehead against Demo’s cheek. He couldn’t see it at this distance, but he knew the sharp contour of Demo’s jaw by memory, the way it followed down then up to the soft curve of his lips. Ones that would be twitching down right now, caught in his indecision.

Demo freed Soldier. A nail gently threaded through a button was all it took, then the careful slipping of an elastic waistband. Soldier lay, exposed, a  hand running over where the hood of his member was missing.

They were rough fingers. But in a way, they also weren’t. Because they were Demo’s.

“I’m going to start,” Demo said, and he still didn’t believe his own words. Or he believed them, but couldn’t comprehend this reality he was saying them in. “Hold on to me. This is all going to be new so if it gets overwhelming…”

Soldier nodded. He’d realized that from the start. But he was safe here, held steady by the bones in Demo’s shoulder and the knees against his thighs.

Demo’s hand twitched. Soldier’s world turned.

Wind shuttered through old lungs from equal measures shock and desire. Soldier knew this. He’d never known release but he had known this, the careful building he’d always suppressed like you suppress any sort of unholy revolution. It was only through expectation that he was able to quash the instinct to run.

Demo’s hand ran up the shaft, each movement foreign for both of them. Soldier’s first noise escaped him, and he buried his face into the crook of his friend’s neck.

“That’s alright,” Demo assured him. “I got you. Let it all out laddie…”

Soldier did.

The hot sinfulness grew in the base of his gut, causing his stomach to make more disastrous decisions. He groaned, but didn’t buck or even move, too rooted to the coolth of the wall and the warmth of the Demoman.

Soldier had known pain. He’d known what it’s like to feel the sting of muscles, the ache of a good battle when it’s been hard fought. But this wasn’t like all the glorious acts of masochism that had earned him a reputation as a lunatic.

It wasn’t finding pleasure in hard won pain. It was feeling so good it _hurt_.

He always had said that pain was weakness leaving the body. Not an incorrect philosophy, but maybe it needed to be retooled a bit to fit his current situation. This was his weakness leaving him and being spread all over for only person to see. That was what trust was, right? When you’re not afraid anymore to let them see your most vulnerable parts. When they’re getting you off and instead of crying in agony, you feel safe. Secure.

Soldier wasn’t sure what noises he was making. It was probably something a dying lamb might say. He clung all the tighter, burying the wet of his face into Demo’s neck. Of course he was crying. More weakness leaving him. More for Demo to carry as and Soldier to forget.

This was it. This was fucking _it_. This was why people lived and died and _killed_ over this fervor. He felt it just as he was expecting, his mind going white as he sobbed out his dying words.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I’ve got you. Jane, I’ve got you.”

Demo had been saying that the whole time, only less and less in response to Soldier’s cries. Somewhere along the line he’d began to recite the mantra for himself, filling a role of unyielding support. He wanted to be ready and a rock, caring for someone who needed it. Something had changed in his voice, the embarrassment completely gone, replaced with exultation.

“Gunna…” Soldier said, his only warning. His hips were still frozen in place.

Demo nodded, chin beside Soldier’s head. He quickened.

Glory. That was all. Soldier tasted glory in his mouth and screamed it in his whole body, surrendering wholly to his protector. His angel.

It must have been spinning off him in rays, and when Soldier opened his eyes he was surprised when the whole room wasn’t bathed in it. Instead there was just the opposite wall, the one Demo no longer occupied.

“I’ve got you,” Demo muttered.

Soldier sobbed.

They were locked there, for what was longer than the actual act itself. Soldier didn’t know why they didn’t move, but it gave him an excuse to keep crying and never stop. Pain leaving. Pain coming in.

Demo was sobbing too.

“I’ve got you.”

Begging now.

Soldier nodded. “I know you do.”

That was it. Maybe the permission Demo was looking for, and he leaned back with widened eye. Soldier had been right about the change. Something he’d never bargained for.

Carefully, Soldier leaned over and picked a semi-clean shirt off the floor. He handed it to Demo, who was surprised to notice what a mess he’d made of his hand.

As Soldier tucked himself into his pants, he watched Demo from the corner of his eye. He’d expected to change with this, to not be the same finally knowing what he so desperately couldn’t take for himself, but he hadn’t expected to pull Demo along for the ride. It took a moment to consider whether that was a good thing or bad.

“Jane,” Demo said suddenly, a snap-crackle in the tight air. Soldier looked up. “Can I…can I just…?”

Demo leaned over again. Back to his side, but not exactly as before. It took a moment for Soldier realize Demo was holding him, cuddling into him and crying still. Soldier blinked, relaxing as he never thought he could. Being cared for had been nice. Caring for someone must be just as addictive.

**Author's Note:**

> Things that I did not expect to arise during the writing of this: weird religeous undertones?


End file.
